Murder, She Scribbled
by LavernaG
Summary: It seems every time Jessica encounters crime she does so with a paper and pen in hand. One-Shot.


**_I'm currently working on a longer "Murder, She Wrote" story, but Heaven knows when that'll be finished. So in the meantime, here's a little one-shot._**

**_I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a review if you do! :)_**

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_Jessica remembers her first experience with crime very well._

She was sitting in her papa's study with her small green notebook and her papa's finest fountain pen. She was contemplating what to name the antagonist of her currently unfinished fairytale when she heard a loud bang from outside. A pair of crows flew up into the bright blue sky from the twisted green branches of the birch by the window. She glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room and noted that it was thirteen minutes passed three o'clock. She made nothing of the noise at the time, rather distracted by the delicious smell of the upcoming lunch that floated through the house—papa was cooking the yellowtail he'd caught earlier that morning.

It was only in the evening when Sheriff Hudson came to ask her mama and papa about their whereabouts in the afternoon that little Jessica realized what she'd heard had been a matter of great importance. It was revealed that their neighbour, Mrs. Findley, had been shot to death in her living room. Upon hearing this, Jessica's brothers saw fit to drag her out of the room in spite of the little girl's desperate pleading to be allowed to stay and listen to what more the Sheriff had to say.

Marshall then cuddled up on the couch in the living room with his sulking baby sister and tried in vain to explain to her that she was too young to listen to such topics. Jessica listened only carefully enough to know when to give an agreeing nod and when to shake her head. She felt it was the greatest injustice in the world not to let her listen in.

When Sheriff Hudson left the house half an hour later, Jessica struggled out of her brother's arms and without noticing the stricken expression on her mama's face and the infuriated one on her papa's, she dashed out of the house, down the front steps and barely managed to avoid crashing into the Sheriff at the gate. The tall man quirked a highly memorable inquisitive eyebrow at her.

Jessica started talking about hearing the shot that had killed their neighbour, pinpointing the time of death at three thirteen. The Sheriff listened with an air of forced politeness, and if Jessica was not very much mistaken, some indifference. It was silly of her to think that this serious man would believe an eight-year-old girl, however, for little Jessica this was the most important moment of her life yet.

Sheriff Hudson listened to her story, thanked her and was on his way before Jessica could get him to share any juicy details about the murder. She did not see the Sheriff at her house after that time, but in a week her papa told her that the mystery had been solved and her mama cleared of all charges made against her. It wasn't until Jessica was a few years older that she understood what her papa had meant by the latter.

_She also remembers the next time she got involved, and it only now comes to her how peculiar the fact is that she was, once again, writing when the murder occurred._

Jessica shaped the question mark in the lower right corner of the paper into a beautiful curve and hugged herself tightly to escape the shiver of cold she saw coming. A few bright orange maple leaves floated to the ground at her feet from the tree under which she was sitting on an old wooden bench. Jessica loved the park this time of year. The air was crisp, the nature was gorgeous, and when it was not raining, the sky was a brilliant cobalt blue.

She raised her eyes at the soft rustling of dry leaves that reached her ears and spotted a heavily built hooded man about thirty feet from where she was sitting. Jessica couldn't see his face clearly but she could have sworn he had a beard and he was looking straight at her. An unreasoning eerie chill went through her, one that was definitely not caused by the cool in the air. Jessica hugged her notebook to her chest and watched silently as the man walked towards her. She couldn't recognize him; he must have been a stranger in Cabot Cove. About half-way to her the man turned abruptly on his heel and strode away to his right.

Jessica let out a small audible sigh of relief. And then she jumped because on either side of her a young nimble man jumped over the backrest of the bench and sat next to her. A hand rushed to her chest in alarm, and she didn't even want to know how comical an expression she wore for a few moments as she quickly glanced at one man after the other. "David! Billy!" she exclaimed in a studiously scandalized voice in spite of her actual relief at seeing her two high school classmates.

"Why, Jessie MacGill, what are you doing freezing out here?" David Everett asked merrily, draping his right arm around Jessica's shoulders.

Jessica's face broke into a wide smile at the warm touch. "I'm just adding a few finishing touches to my story," she replied, glancing down at her messy, hurried handwriting.

"What's it about?" came an inquisitive voice from her right, and Jessica looked up at Billy Spencer's dear round face.

"It's a thriller," Jessica confided proudly, "about a woman who's afraid of the woods. But she has to go there to find her runaway dog."

"How could a gloomy tale like that come out of such a pretty head?" David commented fondly, watching with apparent satisfaction as a lovely blush crossed Jessica's cheeks. "It's going to get dark soon. May we walk you home?"

Jessica shook her head. "Thanks, boys, but I don't think my papa would would appreciate that," she replied with a faint note of sadness in her tone.

"We're not scared of him," Billy laughed heartily.

"That's right," David agreed, standing up and extending a hand towards Jessica. "Come on, Jessie!"

Jessica took a pretentious moment to consider his offer although she had already made up her mind. She took David's offered hand and got up. Billy carefully took the notebook and pen from Jessica and her bag from the bench, placed the writing materials in the bag and draped it over his shoulder. In mutual good spirits the trio started their way across the colourful carpet of leaves with Jessica walking safely between the two tall and handsome young men.

Soon the path turned around a large mossy rock. Jessica stopped abruptly, staring at the ground on the other side of the rock, and gasped sharply. David and Billy came to a halt and followed her gaze. There on the carpet of yellow, orange and red lay a man with his face in the leaves, his hands clutching with claw-like frozen fingers at empty air and the back of his head bashed open. A rich flow of thick dark blood was streaming over his black hair, green windbreaker and onto the ground around him.

For a whole minute the three youngsters stared at the ugly sight. Then suddenly Jessica felt two strong arms pull her against a tall solid body, and David's shoulder shielded the corpse from her view. She was grateful for the comfort but her curiosity had always been a force to be reckoned with, so she tried relentlessly, however, in vain to peek over David's shoulder to catch another glimpse of the dead man. She felt a hand leave her back and return with her bag; Billy ran off to call the Sheriff.

Later that day, after the three young had given Sheriff Davis their statements and Jessica had described the man she'd seen leaving the scene of the crime, Marshall and Martin joined her on the couch in the living room and praised her cool and level-headedness. She shared a comfortable, trusting relationship with all her siblings.

For the next three days Martin and David escorted her to and from school, never letting her out of their sight outdoors, and Jessica was grateful for that. In spite of giving the outward impression of being strong and confident, the way the stranger in the park had walked straight towards her and kept his eyes keenly on her had scared her thoroughly. She had a feeling he could pop up from anywhere outside her house and school, and the presence of her brothers and friends made her feel safe.

And it was a good thing she did move in their reliable company for when the killer was caught four days later, he was found lurking in her backyard. The case was closed quickly and for the next two months Marshall constantly tried to convince her not to roam around the town alone.

_It seems every time she encounters crime she does so with a paper and pen in hand._

Jessica looked up from the short story she was just finishing up in front of Alma's coffee shop at the sound of her name. Across the street she spotted her fiancé waving in her direction. A wide grin spread across Jessica's face and she returned the greeting happily. But then her smile faltered.

A bulky bear of a man ran directly at Frank, knocking the poor unsuspecting man over and sprinting on without paying him any mind. At his heels was a pair of police officers—the middle-aged black man ran straight passed Frank and the much younger red-headed woman actually jumped over him.

Jessica was on her feet before the latter had occurred. She left her bag and half-finished coffee on the table and dashed across the street, reminding herself to check for cars that might be coming her way. "Frank!" she exclaimed as she squatted next to her fiancé, hurriedly checking him for any sign of injury. "Darling, are you all right?"

Frank forced his pained expression into a grin. "Jessie, do you have any idea how adorable you are when you're worried?"

Just before the ambulance took the two of them to the hospital, Jessica managed to catch the attention of the female police officer who had reappeared in the company of the other officer and with the bulky man in handcuffs. She told her that the runaway had been caught at the scene of a murder just a couple of blocks away. Frank was unlucky enough to end up with a plaster cast on his right leg.

"We're gonna have to postpone the wedding," Jessica noted in a sad voice, sitting in the hallway of the hospital in anticipation of the last papers Frank was expected to fill. She had pondered this thought for a good ten minutes but no matter how she looked at it, the prospect failed to thrill her.

Frank clasped her nervously fidgeting hand in his and shook his head. "Oh, no, we're not," he told her tenderly. "It's taken me too long to get you this far to give up now. I'm gonna get you to wear my ring even if I have to walk up the aisle with a broken leg." And in the end he did just that.

_Sitting at her typewriter and looking at the stabbed stranger's body in the middle of her kitchen now, Jessica wonders if she should give up writing._

_The End_


End file.
